Merry Christmas
by i am a bee
Summary: Panic overwhelms him as he realises what day it is. Christmas, his favourite.


When Brian opens his eyes, the smell of his favourite coffee hits him like a brick wall. He was having a really good dream. He takes a second to take inventory of his body and, lo and behold, he's hard. He moans.

Justin is sitting cross-legged beside him in bed, a tray sitting beside him. He looks like a child. A delightfully rumpled mess. He's shirtless but has evidently pulled on a pair of sweatpants to preserve his maidenly modesty. Brian can't understand people who can be so utterly shameless in bed and so prurient outside of it. Justin's hair is sticking up in every direction and he is a little sleepy looking. He hasn't shaved and his face is still a little raw-looking. After what happened last night...Brian's not surprised and represses the urge to pat himself on the back.

_Job well done._

As the memories come flooding back, he almost smiles but takes the urge and mentally stomps on it. Craning his neck, he can see that a piece of mistletoe graces the plate of waffles and fresh fruit that Justin has presumably prepared for him. Panic overwhelms him as he realises what day it is. Christmas, his favourite.

_Christ._

He pulls himself into a careful sitting position. Justin's eyes are shining brightly and he's practically vibrating.

"Merry Christmas," he trills. Holding the mistletoe over his head, Justin kisses him sweetly. Brian has to stifle a groan.

_It was a _really _good dream._

Justin tastes of toothpaste and pulls away much sooner than Brian would like.

"You know, for a WASP, you're really lousy at this Christmas thing. Aren't you supposed to give me what I _want_ for Christmas?"

Justin laughs. "Have you been good this year?"

Brian arches a dark brow, sending Justin into a fit of laughter.

"Fair enough."

"I'm serious," Brian growls, "if that was supposed to be my present.."

"Eat your breakfast, Brian," Justin chides.

Brian shakes his head disdainfully. "You know I don't eat carbs."

"Smell them." Justin lifts the plate and their forbidden, sugary, delicious scent creeps toward him. "They're really good."

Justin's waiting expectantly. "No."

"It's Christmas, Brian."

He's still staring him down.

"If you eat your waffles, I'm sure that we can find _some_ kind of aerobic activity to burn off the calories when you're done."

Justin is never above using sex as a bargaining tool.

_Thank God_.

"Fine," Brian agrees, "but on one condition. Since _you_ insist on making me fat, you might as well feed me."

"Deal." Justin is radiant. His voice drops and he adds in what should be a ridiculous seductive voice, "open your mouth."

It _should _be, but it isn't ridiculous at all.

Brian grinds his teeth. He knows that on today of all days, he should humour Justin. He complies and is glad he that he did. Justin's waffles practically dissolve in his mouth.

"These _are_ good," he mumbles begrudgingly, mouth full of deliciousness.

Justin grins smugly. "I told you so. You should listen to me more often." He pecks him on the lips again. He spears another piece of waffle with his fork and holds it teasingly just out of Brian's reach.

Mouth watering, Brian leans forward slightly and takes the waffle into his mouth. It's killing him that he's playing Justin's game but these waffles are fucking delicious and he wants more.

_Where did he learn to cook?_

He swallows and by the time that he is ready for more, Justin has jerked the waffles a little further out of his reach.

Brian shoots him a look but leans a little further. He closes his eyes and just as he is about to pull the godliness that is Justin's waffles off of the fork, Justin jerks the fork back and Brian is left with nothing but air. Justin's eyes are twinkling and he looks pleased with himself.

Irritated, Brian sends the fork clattering onto the floor. Justin's laughter rings in the loft and Brian is less than impressed.

_It's too early for this. _

He pushes Justin onto his back, pinning him into the bed.

Justin's brows rise as Brian's erection presses into his stomach. "Why, Mr. Kinney, is it just me or are you happy to see me?"

Brian pauses and for a split second he actually considers hiring Justin to do freelance work for Kinnetik. Just to hear him call him Mr. Kinney on a regular basis. Something about the way that his name falls so formally from the lips that whisper it, scream it, cry it, in the most intimate and sexual of acts hits him hard in the pit of his stomach. It makes him hard(er) and he realises that his practice of sleeping naked is coming back to bite him in the ass with a vengeance.

Grabbing a piece of strawberry from the tray, he mashes it into Justin's laughing mouth. The juice runs down the sides of Justin's lips.

God, he _loves _Justin's lips.

Making a mental note to flagellate himself later, Brian caves. He leans in and kisses Justin the way he should have kissed him earlier. The way that a post-fucking, wake-up kiss is _supposed _to be. There are strawberry seeds on Justin's teeth. He doesn't know how Justin managed to find strawberries this fresh in Pittsburgh, in December, but he doesn't care. They're delicious, especially when they're in Justin's mouth.

He grabs a piece of cantaloupe and drags it over Justin's lower lip and chin, watches his eyes half close.

_Just like he'd looked last night when—_

Brian yanks it away. Justin's eyes open just in time to see him take a substantial bite, chew, and swallow.

Justin is still watching him. He's got an idea.

With a renewed appreciation for how small and twinkish Justin is, Brian checks to make sure that his forearm is firmly wedged against He-Who-Never-Works-Out's scrawny chest and tears off a huge piece of waffle.

He's about to fold it into his mouth, all of it, when he sees the doting look in Justin's eyes. He sighs and breaks off a miniscule corner and feeds it to Justin before popping the rest onto his tongue, moaning around the piece of Christmas miracle that is currently residing in his mouth.

"Let's fuck," he says triumphantly, except he's borderline incomprehensible with his mouth full.

The look that Justin gives him is pure Lindsay. Mature and knowing and condescending all wrapped up in two uncannily similar WASPy attractive little blonde packages. The way that they actually delude themselves into thinking that they have an idea of what goes on inside his head. It's like Justin's her secret love child or something.

"Chew your food."

It's damn near a feat to swallow but somehow Brian manages. He shoves the tray onto the nightstand and covers Justin with his naked body. It's December but it's not cold in the loft. He'd never admit it but his heating bills have increased since Justin moved in. He's got geriatric circulation and Brian can't stand to watch him shiver.

He rubs himself against Justin's chest and hears the quiet sigh that escapes his mouth before he can shove it back down with the rest of them. To avoid making eye contact with the smugness that he knows is stretched across Justin's features he presses his mouth to Justin's chest and starts creeping down his body. He barely stifles a laugh when he realises that he's not the only one with a rock hard cock this morning.

He finally settles between Justin's legs which have mercifully spread to accommodate him and are now gripping his hips. He breaks contact in the flat gap between Justin's bellybutton and his sweatpants, hooks his fingers in their waistband and jerks them tantalizingly slowly. He wants to postpone this as long as possible. After he's sure what has seemed like an eternity to Justin, he casts them on the floor. He kisses Justin's knee and feels him respond by knotting his fingers in his hair. The scratch of his stubble across Justin's skin is driving him crazy. Brian's not sure how he feels about knowing this as well as he does. It's stored in the same part of his brain that deals with the rest of the things that fall under the indubitable truth heading.

_Whatever. _

Justin's opposite hipbone is next. His collarbone. Brian shifts his gaze. There is still some lube and a couple of condoms on the nightstand from last night.

_How convenient._

He covers his fingers in lube and strokes his entrance gently. He goes slower than usual, stretching him with his fingers. He's lost track of the number of times that Justin's back has arched like a cat already. The noise that catches in Justin's throat bypasses the pit of Brian's stomach this time and hits him square in the groin.

Finally, Brian stills his hand. "I'm ready."

"For _what?!_" Justin looks homicidal.

Brian looks at him patiently. "My present."

"Brian!"

The tone of Justin's voice can be so wife-like when he scolds. Brian knows that this should upset him more than it does. He stares at Justin intently while he contemplates this.

"Please." Justin is practically begging him.

He doesn't really want to wait anymore, either. He rolls a condom on and barely resists the urge to flip Justin over or raise his legs up over his shoulders like he usually does. It's Christmas and that means something to Justin even if it doesn't to him. Justin locks his legs around his waist and pulls him in, so that they're closer than they usually are and when he enters him his responses are all the more exciting because they're _right there_ in front of him. It's like the most amazing porno that never was.

He always rationalised his decision to fuck Justin from behind. He thought seeing Justin's face would ruin it for him. Now he realises just exactly what he's been missing out on.

He can see the sensation of every single stroke wash over Justin's face. The subtle flush that kisses his jaws and temples, the way that Justin bites his lower lip. His hand is stroking Justin's cock, but it's absent-minded and his attention isn't really in it. He's so absorbed in what is playing out across Justin's features that he doesn't realise how close he is and when Justin starts to come he is surprised at how his own orgasm is seemingly wrenched from the depths of nothingness into existence.

When he finally drops on top of him, resting his head in the crook of Justin's neck and panting heavily, Justin starts to laugh shallowly. "That was..." he trailed off, "Brian, I—"

"Yeah," Brian agreed, cutting him off. He doesn't really want to hear him say it. "Merry Christmas."

* * *

**A/N: I do not own _Queer as Folk_, much as I wish I did.**

**Love it? Hate it? Comments and criticisms are appreciated ;)  
**


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